


Family By Blood, Family By Choice

by sunstarunicorn



Series: It's a Magical Flashpoint [10]
Category: Chronicles of Narnia - C. S. Lewis, Flashpoint (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Good Intentions, Phobias
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-10-25 00:44:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10753179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunstarunicorn/pseuds/sunstarunicorn
Summary: The famous Harry Potter has declared that the Calvin siblings are to be returned to England immediately and he has the parchmentwork to back him up!  But before he can remove the teenagers from Parker’s custody, Gringotts challenges England’s overturning of Artorius Calvin’s will and takes custody themselves.  Greg Parker must prove that, magic or not, he’s just as much a Calvin as his two charges are if he wants to keep his family together.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Author note: This story is the tenth in the Magical Flashpoint series. It follows “Trial By Fire”.
> 
> Although all original characters belong to me, I do not own _Flashpoint_ , _Harry Potter_ , _Narnia_ , or _Merlin_. _Harry Potter_ is based off the events of the books, rather than the altered events of the movies.

_Previously_

The wand aimed unerringly at its target, the tip glowing with the force of its wielder’s emotions.

“You ruined _everything_ ,” its wielder snarled at his captive, panting as he evaluated his situation. His captive kept his hands in view, the eyes behind his round spectacles narrowed and watchful.

* * * * *

Gregory Goyle growled, his eyes coming up and meeting his captive’s, Harry Potter, eyes.

* * * * *

“Gregory Goyle,” Sarge called, his voice as calm as if he was simply talking face-to-face with the Death Eater, rather than from behind a shield with spells flying at them. “I’m Sergeant Gregory Parker with the Auror Strategic Response Unit.”

* * * * *

Something in Potter’s eyes made Ed nervous. “Actually, _Sergeant_ ,” Potter said smugly, “I’m here to return young Lancelot and Alanna to England.”

_Oh, heck no,_ Ed thought furiously. Judging from the equally angry looks on the rest of the Team’s faces, he wasn’t the only one to think that. “Excuse me?” Greg whispered, the sudden rage in his eyes actually scaring his Team Leader.

With a flourish, Potter pulled out a sheaf of parchment. “Oh, don’t worry, Sergeant Parker; my wife and I will be delighted to raise Lancelot and Alanna where they should have been raised all along…among their _own_ kind.”

Greg snatched the parchment away from the smug man and scanned it. His eyes shifted up to Potter and, to Ed’s shock, he actually swore. “Like _hell_ are you taking my family away from me!”


	2. Losing Family

“What in Merlin’s name?” Locksley demanded sharply. “You intend to take two children, who have lived here in Canada for two years, and force them back to a country where their parents died?”

Potter didn’t look the least bit repentant. “At least in England, they will live amongst their _own kind_ ,” he snapped, glaring at both Parker and Locksley. “Why Artorius sent them _here_ , I will never know, but at least now, his children can come _home_.”

“This _is_ their home,” Wordsworth burst out, a mix of panic and anger in his face and voice. “ _We’re_ their family now.” His eyes narrowed and he added, “You’re being just as prejudiced as those pureblood fanatics Lance and Alanna told us about.”

Potter stiffened at the insult, his glare sweeping sideways to Wordsworth. “I’m no pureblood bigot, _Constable_ ,” he sneered, “I just happen to know how you Muggles treat magical children.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Jules questioned, her eyes narrow with outrage. “What, we have to have magic to raise magical kids?”

Potter sneered at her, but made no reply. Clearly done with the techies; he turned a smug, superior look on Sergeant Parker. “You know,” he began, so utterly condescending that the unobserved watcher wanted to pound him, “I considered offering to bring them back every so often, keep in touch. I don’t want them to lose any friendships after all. But I don’t see how that could possibly work with such open and _blatant_ violations of the Statute of Secrecy here.” His gaze shifted pointedly to Madame Locksley. “Perhaps, _if_ such violations are dealt with, I might consider bringing my new wards back for a few visits.”

Parker growled, clearly reining himself in with an effort. “You think you can just come in and take _mio_ _nipotes_ without any warning or any sort of legal proceeding?”

“Oh, there was a legal proceeding,” Potter replied airily, “Of course, as a Muggle, you were represented _in absentia_ , but there was a legal proceeding.”

“To overturn the will,” Wordsworth snarled. “Doesn’t that set a nasty precedent though?”

Potter’s smile reminded the watcher of a shark’s toothy grin. “Not at all,” he claimed, “Rather, it sends the message that we of the wizarding world are fully invested in protecting our children.”

“And that you don’t trust your friend,” Lane pointed out. He ignored the outraged expression on Potter’s face. “After all, you went out of your way to overturn his will, take his children away from their uncle. I’d say that shows just how much you respected him.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Potter retorted. He all but whirled to Parker. “I’ll be collecting my new wards tomorrow afternoon, _Sergeant_ Parker. Make sure they’re packed and ready to go.” He paused, but his prejudice got the better of him. “I’d tell you to say good-bye to them, but we both know you don’t actually _care_ about them.” Without waiting for a response, the wizard turned on his heel and walked away, leaving a devastated Sergeant staring after him.

* * * * *

The kids’ reaction to the news was much the same as Greg’s had been. Horror, disbelief, denial, and rage. Greg didn’t bother to hide how much the separation would hurt him, the kids deserved better than that from him. He was past the rage and denial, a sort of grief was settling over the stocky man as he contemplated the long, lonely nights ahead of him.

Alanna clung to him, sobbing, “I don’t want to go, Uncle Greg.”

He hugged her back, letting his own tears flow. “I don’t want you to go either, _mia nipote_ ,” he choked out.

Lance was trying to hold his own sorrow in, but Greg would have none of that and he pulled his nephew into the hug. “I wish…” Lance whispered.

“Me too,” Greg admitted. The kids would have to leave their tech-based toys and equipment behind, another reminder he himself would have to endure once they were gone. “I’m sorry,” he offered to both children.

“Not your fault,” Lance sniffled. “You told me that when ‘Lanna disappeared.” The boy pulled back, wiping his eyes. “We’ll come back,” he promised.

“We won’t forget you,” Alanna promised as well, her girlish tones somehow much older and wiser.

Breaking down wasn’t going to help, Greg reminded himself firmly. He smiled as much as he could at both kids. “What do you two say to pizza for dinner,” he offered. “Then,” he almost choked, “Then I can help you pack.”

Both teens hugged him again, their tears flowing and mingling with their guardian’s. For the first time in two years, Lance finally managed to say, “We love you, Uncle Greg.”

Greg’s arms tightened around _his_ kids, _his nipotes_. “Love you too, kiddos,” he whispered, struggling to hold back the sense of loss already hovering over him.

* * * * *

“What are you doing?” Hermione Weasley née Granger demanded of her best friend and brother-in-law in the hotel room they were sharing until they could go home to England.

Harry looked up from the burnt and somewhat tattered robes that had been one of his more comfortable Auror uniforms. With a shrug, he replied, “I’m giving two kids a much better home than I had growing up.”

Hermione was not appeased, not in the slightest. “You didn’t even give Parker a chance,” she growled. “They saved your life! And you thank them by taking away Parker’s cousins without any warning. Harry, you _promised_.”

“He dragged all his Muggle friends into the wizarding world!” Harry snapped back. “They’re trying to use _Muggle_ technology in _our_ world, that’s all I needed to see.”

“It worked and you know it,” Hermione argued. “Would that be so bad? To have the best of _both_ worlds?” It was certainly one of the only reasons no one had ended up dead that day, of that Hermione was certain. “Besides, they didn’t do it all with technology, they had a wizard help them with the door.”

“Oh, that makes it so much better,” Harry sneered, his sarcasm etched in every word. “It’s not up for debate, ‘Mione. I’m _not_ going to let that Muggle do to Artorius’s kids what the Dursleys did to me.”

“No, you’re just going to break all of their hearts to prove you’re right,” Hermione said softly. When Harry stared at her, she shook her head. “You didn’t see the look on Parker’s face when you walked away, or the looks on his team’s faces.” With that, Hermione levitated her trunk and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Harry asked, confused and hurt.

“I can’t help you do this, Harry,” Hermione replied. “I won’t stop you, but I won’t help you either.” With that, she left to find another room to stay in.

* * * * *

The silver-haired figure made his way down the pebbled pathway, intent on his destination. He wasn’t afraid of being spotted, the odds that Potter would consider a fellow wizard a threat to his underhanded plan were remote.

And yet, the wizard wondered to himself why he was doing this. It wasn’t as if he liked the two British brats, especially after they’d opened the door to a group of Mugg…no, techies…becoming a permanent part of his life. The brats had screamed at him, insulted him, and…and been so terribly right. They’d been right and the techies _were_ far more than he’d given them credit for.

Even that wasn’t the only reason the wizard was doing this. No, the other reason had to do with, not the day’s events, but the events of a few months earlier. When a broken, suicidal man had stood in a room not five meters away from the watching wizard and been stopped, not by force or by spell, but by another man who’d been willing to bare his own broken, bleeding heart to show his mentor that he wasn’t alone.

To the absent Potter, the wizard murmured, “You can’t tell me that this is how it ends.” Then he looked up at his destination with the gleaming marble columns and mezzanine with the building’s name chiseled in letters a meter tall: Gringotts.


	3. The Will of Lord Calvin

The nervous wizard stood in line, waiting to be served by the goblin tellers lining the interior counter of the bank. When it was his turn, he stepped forward and showed not his vault key, but his badge. “I would like to speak with the Calvin family account manager, please,” he requested. It was not his habit to be so polite to goblins, but this was so irregular and outside of established procedure that the wizard wanted to be as polite and non-offensive as possible.

The teller examined him for several long moments, prompting a discrete swallow from the wizard. “Wait here,” the teller ordered, flipping the sign on his desk to ‘Closed’. The goblin hopped down from his chair and vanished through a door behind the counter. The wizard waited, sweating, but there was no turning back now. Eventually, after some minutes, the teller reappeared and walked around the desk to the wizard. “Follow,” the teller ordered, already proceeding to the maze of corridors on the far side of the atrium. The wizard followed, losing count of the turns and twists within the first few minutes of walking. At last, they came to an office door and the teller knocked.

“Enter,” the occupant called.

The teller opened the door and the two, man and goblin, entered. The teller bowed to the goblin behind the desk, speaking rapidly in Gobbledegook **(1)**. The goblin behind the desk listened intently, his eyes shifting briefly to the waiting wizard as his subordinate spoke. When the teller was finished, the goblin behind the desk dismissed him with a long-fingered hand.

“I am Silnok, account manager to the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin. What is your business with the House of Calvin, Auror Wilkins?”

Wilkins was not surprised that the goblin knew who he was and straightened his shoulders at the goblin’s question. “May I assume you know of my professional connections with Sergeant Parker, guardian of the Calvin children?”

Silnok’s eyes narrowed, but he inclined his head. “You may,” he intoned.

“England has overturned the will of the late Lord Calvin,” Wilkins blurted. “Harry Potter has, with England’s blessing, taken guardianship of the Calvins.”

The goblin’s eyes flashed with fury. “What madness is this?” he demanded. “To overturn the will of a Lord…it is unheard of, sir.”

“I know,” Wilkins agreed miserably. “But they’ve done it, nonetheless, Account Manager Silnok. Potter intends to take the children back to England tomorrow, he’s all but promised to never let them return so long as their uncle and his team know about our world.”

The angry goblin hissed in outrage. “To take guardianship from blood-kin…it is a dangerous precedent, Auror Wilkins. England may well live to regret their actions.” He leaned back in his chair, abruptly calm and cunning. “But what, Auror Wilkins, is your stake in the matter?” he questioned, eyeing the Auror. “By all accounts, you are not fond of either the children _or_ their blood-kin.”

Wilkins swallowed hard at the question. It took him some moments to formulate a reply. “Ghosts,” he finally said, voice quiet.

“Ghosts?” the goblin queried.

“A man they helped, he said all he could see anymore were the ghosts, his failures,” Wilkins explained awkwardly. “I can’t…” he gulped again, “I can’t let these kids turn into ghosts for Parker; he deserves better than that.”

Silence hung in the air, the goblin considering the Auror’s words. “I see,” he observed at last and Wilkins cringed. “You have learnt that there is far more to life than magic,” the goblin mused. “Far, far more.” Silnok leaned forward, his black eyes turning intent. “You may leave this with me, Auror Wilkins. I shall tell no one of your coming here, you have my word. No one will ever know that it was _you_ , Auror Wilkins, who set the wheels of justice in motion.” He smiled, teeth baring as he did so. “Now go, Auror. I have much to do.”

Wilkins gathered up his courage and bowed to the goblin before slipping out the door.

* * * * *

Silnok frowned as soon as the door closed behind the wizard. Truly, this should _not_ have been such a surprise and he should _not_ have had to find out about Potter’s actions from a sympathetic Canadian Auror. The goblin moved quickly, gathering both Artorius Calvin’s will and the painstaking genealogy research the late Lord had commissioned over a decade earlier. Once he had the documents, he called for an emergency meeting of the Canadian Gringotts management branch.

* * * * *

“The Muggle should never have been given custody,” the British goblin sneered at the meeting. He was, like many, a firm believer in the separation of the worlds.

Silnok raised his voice to respond. “The Muggle, as you call him, is blood-kin to both the late Lord and his children. As such, he was, and is, a perfectly acceptable choice in the eyes of both British and Canadian law.”

“What proof have you of that?” the presiding goblin inquired, his expression intent.

Silnok almost smiled at the question and rose, presenting the genealogy research to the scribe. “I have here the results of a genealogy study commissioned by Artorius Calvin following the deaths of his honorable parents, Percival and Alexandria Calvin.”

Once the scribe had copied and passed the documents out to the council, Silnok cleared his throat and began to explain the history. “In 1824, a Squib was born to the Calvin family, the first such born to the family since its founding in the time of Camelot. This Squib, unlike many other Squibs, was not summarily tossed from our world. Instead, the House of Calvin supported the child during his education and supplied sufficient funds for young Squib to sojourn to what was then referred to as the New World.

“The Squib settled in Canada, marrying and producing several young, each of whom knew about their British relatives. In time, the various familial branches faded away, as did the knowledge of the magical world. A daughter of the Squib’s firstborn line eventually married into the House of Parker, uniting that House with the House of Calvin. Gregory Parker is a direct descendent of that union, as they were his paternal grandparents.”

The council absorbed the information, considering both the records and the will before them. The presiding goblin leaned forward in his seat. “And this Gregory Parker? What is your impression of him?”

Silnok inclined his head, respectful to the elder goblin. “He accepted his young kin into his life without hesitation, fully supporting their talents and giving them an environment where their Wild Magic has blossomed rather than being suppressed in learning,” Silnok sneered, “lesser, weaker Latin magic.”

Another goblin spoke up. “They are Wild Mages?”

“Yes,” was the simple answer.

The British goblin scoffed. “That magic was lost generations ago,” he declared.

Silnok leered right back. “The magic was lost because the House married as all British purebloods do, burying their magic beneath the magic of other families. These children are full Wild Mages, with familial animagus forms and a native understanding of Old Magic.”

Gasps ran around the room; Old Magic, beyond a spell or two, hadn’t been seen or used in centuries. The presiding goblin harrumphed, bringing attention back to himself. “Wild Mages, Old Magic, all of this is no doubt interesting and diverting. However,” his stern gaze raked the council, “The issue before us is the matter of the _legitimate_ will of the late Lord Calvin and Britain’s overturning of that will. Shall we of Gringotts interfere with the wizards or not?”

As the elder goblin leaned back in his chair, the council of goblins began to cast their votes. Silnok watched, praying to Aslan that the council would agree with him.

 

[1] The native language of goblins


	4. The Challenge of Gringotts

Greg Parker had to force himself out of bed. Unlike the day his kids had arrived, Greg had been able to take the day off, but the difference brought him no pleasure. Today was the day he lost the family that had been part of his life for the past two years. Still numb, he punched the coffeemaker on and pulled two sodas out of his fridge. The two sodas went on the small kitchen table for the kids while Greg grabbed a mug out of his cupboard for the coffee. He didn’t pull out any breakfast for himself, the idea of food made him nauseous.

Two silent children joined him in the kitchen, retrieving bowls for their morning cereal. They were quiet and subdued, trying not to cry as they sat at the table for the last time. Greg hid his own sorrow in his cup of coffee as his kids ate their breakfast.

The atmosphere around the small family was almost smothering in its oppressive grief. The teens only managed a small portion of their breakfast, their stomachs churning just as much as their uncle’s. In the living room, both suitcases were packed and ready to go, just as stuffed as they had been when the teens arrived. The teens had left several keepsakes behind for their uncle, determined to leave him reminders that they loved him and planned to come back as soon as they could.

A tapping on the window brought the teenagers’ heads up from their bowls. Lance slid off his chair, racing over to the window to open it and let the large hawk inside. Greg, unfamiliar with this particular wizarding custom, opened his mouth to protest, only to stop at the roll of parchment his nephew pulled off the hawk’s leg. The hawk took flight, sweeping back out of the window as soon as its burden was free.

The parchment roll bore an unusual wax crest; the silhouette of a lock blended at the top with a pair of wings and two unfurling rolls of parchment. A key hovered over the lock and a golden circle surrounded the key. The word ‘Gringotts’ was written on the circle and below the entire crest was a motto: ‘ _Fortius Quo Fidelius_ **(2)**.’

For a moment, all three hovered over the mysterious letter, then Lance broke the seal, opening the roll to reveal a letter. He read it through, then looked up, an impossible, wild hope in his eyes. He offered the letter to his uncle, his hand trembling with the force of his hope.

_“Mr. Gregory Parker,_

_Gringotts has received notice of Britain’s decision to overturn the Will of the late, honorable Lord Calvin. You and your wards are required to attend a meeting at Gringotts to determine the legality of Britain’s position on the issue of guardianship. This meeting shall occur today at precisely 12 o’clock._

_Gringotts has determined that, regardless of the guardianship, the Regency of the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin shall remain yours until Heir Calvin reaches his majority. As you are Regent of the House of Calvin, Lord Potter may **not** deny you access to either of the young Calvins in matters concerning the House of Calvin._

_Yours in Business,_

_Silnok, Account Manager for the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin”_

Greg read the note through once, twice, three times before it sank in that this ‘Silnok’ was telling him that he couldn’t be completely cut out of his _nipotes_ ’ lives. And more, it sounded as if Gringotts was going to give him a chance to keep the kids. He swallowed hard and met his nephew’s fierce gaze. “Guess we’d better be there,” he remarked.

“More than that, Uncle Greg,” Lance said, grim with determination. “Remember those fancy dress robes we talked you into?”

Greg nodded, confused. About a year earlier, the teens had practically bullied him into getting dress robes with the Calvin family crest; not for them, but for _him_. He hadn’t been pleased at all with them for several days afterwards, but they’d both been adamant that he needed the robes. “What about them?”

The two siblings traded looks, then looked back up at him. “You’d better wear them,” Alanna said softly, “And we’d better wear ours.”

* * * * *

Greg followed the kids into the gleaming marble building and trailed after them as they got in line. He could now see the wisdom of arriving close to an hour early for the meeting, as the line was rather long. Fortunately, the line also moved rather quickly and the family was soon in front of one of the goblin tellers.

Lance presented the letter they’d received to the teller, saying, “The Ancient and Noble House of Calvin is here, as requested, for the meeting at 12 o’clock.”

The teller examined the letter closely, scrutinizing every detail. At length, he was satisfied and looked up at the three. “Follow, please,” he said, hopping down from his chair and walking around his desk. They followed the goblin across the atrium and into the warren of corridors beyond. Greg, for his part, was grateful he was wearing his uniform under the dark brown dress robes. It made it much easier for him to move without being awkward in the unfamiliar robes. He’d opted for a brand new black uniform delivered only a few days before. The SRU hadn’t even switched to the black uniforms yet, they were so new.

After more twists and turns than Greg could count, they arrived at a plain office door. The teller knocked, receiving an “Enter” from within. The door opened and the teller ushered them inside. The goblin teller bowed to the three humans and departed, pulling the door shut behind him.

“So we meet at last, Sergeant Parker,” the goblin behind the desk remarked, leaning forward. Greg blinked in surprise at the ‘Sergeant Parker’; the letter had been addressed to ‘ _Mr._ Parker’. He took a moment to study the figure behind the desk. Sharp pointed features stood out, but the goblin’s white, stringy hair was well groomed, styled after an American, Donald Trump. The goblin’s nose was longer than a human’s and pointed, like his equally long ears. His mouth was wide and his teeth, those that Greg could see, looked like a carnivore’s.

Polite as always, Greg replied, “You must be Mr. Silnok,” as he extended his hand to shake.

The goblin gave an odd chuckle and took Greg’s hand. It was dry, much drier than a human’s, and rough. “So I must be,” he remarked, his dark eyes glinting with an inner humor. “It is, by the by, just Silnok. Goblins do not have honorifics as humans do. If you intend to use a title, Accountant Silnok will do.” Now the goblin smiled, showing every one of his sharp teeth. “I see that you are wondering at my choice of address,” he announced bluntly. “For the letter, your status as the Calvin Regent was far more important than the title you have earned in Muggle and Magical law enforcement.” He spread his hands as he spoke, gesturing at the office. “Here, I acknowledge your earned title, as is only proper.”

Greg inclined his head, but was far more interested in the upcoming meeting. “I see,” he said, noncommittal.

Once again, Silnok laughed. “I take no offense, Sergeant Parker. Of course you are more interested in retaining custody of your young cousins than in the oddities of different forms of address.” He paused for several moments, a hidden amusement dancing over his features. “It shall be…very interesting…indeed it will.”

Another knock sounded from the door and Silnok bade the new arrival enter. Greg stiffened at the sight of Auror Potter, he fought down the urge to grab the kids and run. Auror Potter for his part sneered at the SRU Sergeant, looking offended that Greg was wearing wizarding robes. He knew, however, better than to say anything too offensive. Though his actual remarks were not much better for he turned toward Silnok and raised the letter he’d received, demanding, “What is the meaning of this? _I_ will be the Regent for the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin, as per the ruling of the Wizengamot.”

Silnok growled, his expression showing a brief, but terrible rage. “The Wizengamot may not dictate the terms of a goblin-executed will, Lord Potter. Gringotts means precisely as I said, Sergeant Parker _will_ be the Regent for the House of Calvin, regardless of the guardianship of the Heirs Calvin.”

“ ‘Will be’?” Potter questioned, still indignant.

A harrumph came from Silnok. “When the will was originally executed, Sergeant Parker had no status in the wizarding world. As such, the Calvin estate went into trust, to be held and managed by Gringotts until Heir Calvin’s majority.” With a sly smirk, the goblin continued, “Beyond a few token allowances, Sergeant Parker had no actual say in managing the estate. Such would have remained the case,” Silnok leaned forward, “If Britain had not been so _insistent_ upon the Heirs Calvin being placed into _your_ custody, Lord Potter. With the will in dispute, its provisions may be examined once again and we have determined that Lord Calvin foresaw the potential of his cousin’s line to produce magical offspring. In such an event, Lord Calvin wished for his cousin to have more rank and authority than most Muggleborns’ parents do.”

“He has no magical offspring,” Potter pointed out. Greg shifted in his seat, but didn’t argue.

“No, he does not,” Silnok agreed. “However, his rank as an _Auror_ Sergeant gives Gringotts leeway to fulfill Lord Calvin’s proviso.”

Auror Potter looked less than happy, but did not protest further.

Waving a long-fingered hand, Silnok proceeded. “As Britain has seen fit to challenge the late Lord Calvin’s will, so too does Gringotts see fit to challenge _both_ contenders for the guardianship of the Heirs Calvin.”

“What?” Auror Potter choked out. “We are merely…”

Silnok cut off Auror Potter with a sharp, “Attempting to overrule laws that have stood for centuries! Sergeant Parker is, by the terms of Lord Calvin’s will, the guardian of Lancelot and Alanna Calvin by right of blood, of spirit, of _magic_.”

“ _Magic_?” Auror Potter demanded loudly.

Silnok was unimpressed. “Blood is blood, Lord Potter, no matter how thinly it is spread through the centuries. While the House of Parker as yet has not regained enough magic to rejoin the world of their Calvin ancestors, they _do_ still retain the potential for magic. That alone is enough for Sergeant Parker to have the right of magic.” He gave Auror Potter his wide, toothy smile. “Therefore, Gringotts has chosen to set forth a challenge to both potential guardians. In the meantime, Gringotts shall hold guardianship.”

One long finger pointed at the door and it opened, revealing several armed goblins. They entered, and, to Greg’s considerable alarm, escorted the teens away. Before the kids left, Lance met Silnok’s eyes, clearly searching for something. The goblin gave the teen a subtle nod, one Lance returned. Lance twisted toward his uncle and, to Greg’s surprise, gave him an encouraging smile. Greg watched his kids go, heart in his throat and looked over at Auror Potter. His gut clenched, he wasn’t a wizard, didn’t have the same abilities as any wizard would. But he wasn’t giving up; not without a fight.

Greg whirled toward Silnok. “So what’s this challenge?” he asked, quiet, firm, and determined. Then he wondered why Silnok looked so pleased and smug.

“Taming and riding a Narnian gryphon,” Silnok announced.

_Oh. Joy._

 

[2] Strength through loyalty


	5. Of Fear and Overcoming It

Harry almost laughed; riding a griffin? _That_ was the great and mysterious challenge? After riding a hippogriff, a griffin wouldn’t be any trouble at all. It didn’t hurt that the Muggle, Parker, looked positively green at the challenge.

Silnok studied both of them. “I see that both of you are wearing dress robes,” he observed. “Will you require time to change to more…appropriate clothing?”

Harry shook his head; he planned to be back in England in time to introduce his new charges to Ginny and his children and have dinner. Parker considered, then asked if Silnok had a hanger he could use for his dress robes. Silnok offered to have one brought to the clearing where the challenge would take place, an offer Parker graciously accepted.

With the details sorted, Silnok led them out of his office and to another room within Gringotts. There, a goblin passed Silnok a length of rope with a nod and one of those eerie goblin smiles. Silnok bowed back and turned to his two companions, holding the rope out. Harry grabbed hold at once, but Parker studied the rope a moment.

“Portkey?” he asked; Harry suppressed a roll of his eyes.

Silnok inclined his head to the stocky Muggle. With a small grimace, Parker grabbed hold and the goblin said something in Gobbledegook. The portkey whisked them away; they landed in a forest clearing, Harry and Silnok keeping their feet while Parker ended up in a heap on the ground. For the first time, Harry had a moment of sympathy for the Muggle; landings with Portkey and Floo **(3)** were his weak point as well.

Harry looked around the clearing; it was large, stretching from the woods near the three travelers in a sweep of small hills and plains to a far off stand of woods and trees that looked to be almost one-hundred meters away. The ground was shades of green and brown, with strands of undergrowth here and there. Harry drew in a breath of air, smiling at the clear, cool breeze dancing around them.

Near to where the travelers stood, there was a small corral, with a griffin inside. The wizard studied the griffin a moment, surprised at the differences between the griffin and the hippogriff he owned, Buckbeak. The lion half, as opposed to a horse half, he’d expected. But unlike Buckbeak, the griffin’s front legs were mostly lion, only turning to eagle claws near the ground. The tail was a lion’s tail, but again, unlike Buckbeak, the tail had tail feathers, just like a real eagle would. The griffin also had ears, something Buckbeak didn’t have at all, long, furry, and tufted.

The griffin eyed the new arrivals, letting out an annoyed cat-bird grumble. Wings half-spread, then settled back. The animal moved to the rear of the corral, beginning to preen its feathers, though it kept a close eye on its guests. The tail lashed, curling around so it too could be preened by the griffin. Beside Harry, Parker was eyeing the griffin as though it was a death sentence.

Silnok cleared his throat, bringing the attention of both men to himself. “Lord Potter, as the challenger of England, you shall go first. Sergeant Parker, you may, of course, observe Lord Potter’s attempt as he shall observe yours.”

He offered a hanger to the stocky man and indicated a small traveling rack where Parker could hang his dress robes. Harry wrinkled his nose as Parker shed the dress robes with obvious relief, revealing a black police uniform underneath them. The wizard quite conveniently forgot his own early struggles with robes as a youngster.

Instead, Harry turned his attention to the griffin, musing on his strategy. A deep bow, of course, waiting for an answering bow, and then a quick ride to top his success off with. He turned to Silnok, offering a brief bow to the goblin. “May I?” he requested politely.

Silnok studied him, waiting until Parker was done hanging his robes up, then inclined his head. “You may begin, Lord Potter.”

* * * * *

Greg did his best to conceal his raw fear at the idea of _flying_ on the beautiful gryphon in the corral. He might have hoped for Auror Potter to win and spare him the ordeal, but for the fact that if Auror Potter won, he’d lose his family. Even so, flying had never been one of his favorite things, quite the reverse actually.

Auror Potter entered the corral with an almost visible confidence in his bearing. He halted a meter or so from the gryphon, who, at Auror Potter’s approach, had risen to its feet and begun to hiss. Without breaking eye contact, Auror Potter bowed to the gryphon. For several moments, the gryphon continued to hiss and pace, but as Auror Potter held the bow, the gryphon studied him. Abruptly, it sank down, returning the bow to Greg’s considerable dismay.

Cautiously, carefully, Auror Potter advanced, letting the gryphon sniff at his outstretched hand. The gryphon held still, letting Auror Potter come right up to it and nuzzling into the petting. Greg’s heart sank; he’d already lost. Auror Potter looked over his shoulder, tossing a smirk at Greg as he kept petting the gryphon.

Without missing a beat, Auror Potter went to mount the gryphon, looking rather cocky as he rested his hand on the gryphon’s back in preparation for mounting. Greg swallowed hard, trying to hold back his disappointment as Auror Potter leaned forward, about to mount.

With an outraged **scree!** the gryphon reared up, dislodging its would-be rider. Auror Potter fell backwards, rolling even as he hit the ground to avoid the slash of razor-sharp talons. The Auror scrambled back, dodging the furious animal as best he could. Greg, without thinking, ran to the gate and swung it open. Auror Potter leapt for the open gate, narrowly escaping the gryphon’s snapping beak as he rolled out of the corral to safety. The gryphon halted as Greg swung the gate shut, eyeing both men balefully. With a final cat-like hiss, it stalked away in offended dignity.

Silnok, who had observed the entire episode, offered a leer to Auror Potter. “Never, Lord Potter, assume that you know how a cat will respond. They will invariably prove you wrong in your assumptions.”

The dusty Auror scowled from his spot on the ground; in addition to the cuts from the day before, he now sported several long, thin scratches on his arms, blood leaking onto his fancy dress robes. “It’s not a cat, it’s a gryphon,” he pointed out.

“As you say,” the goblin replied, sounding amused. He turned toward Greg, giving a wide, toothy smile. “Your turn, Sergeant Parker.”

Greg Parker looked from those pointed teeth, to Auror Potter on the ground, to the gryphon in the corral and gulped.

 

[3] Magical travel by fireplace


	6. Choosing Home

_For the kids,_ Greg chanted to himself, _for the kids,_ as he walked inside the corral. On the opposite side, the gryphon was grooming and preening itself again. As soon as the Sergeant was inside the gate, the gryphon’s head came up, eyeing the man with a wary caution. Greg swallowed hard and forced himself to bow, not breaking eye contact.

The gryphon stared at him, tail lashing as a low grumbling growl rose from it. The negotiator held as still as he could, waiting. Finally, the gryphon rose and swept his wings outward, bowing back. Greg blew out, relieved that he’d at least gotten that, but opted not to approach the still skittish animal. He straightened, slow and careful, keeping his hands in view and open. The gryphon studied him, tail lashing, his feathers and fur almost puffed up, his ears laid back.

“Hi there,” Greg said softly, quite sure the animal could hear him just fine. “I won’t come closer, boy, I’ll just wait here for a bit.”

The gryphon gave a little grumble, but began to settle as Greg remained where he was.

“I bet you’re wondering why all these humans are bothering you,” Greg went on, as calm as if it was a negotiation rather than taming a wild animal. He very deliberately didn’t think about what would come next. “It’s actually a long story, are you interested?” He paused, as if the animal could respond, but, beyond settling back down and beginning to groom, the gryphon did not respond. “Started two years ago,” Greg began, shifting to a better position for standing and talking, “Hard to believe it’s been that long; they do say time flies when you’re having a good time.” He smiled wistfully. “Seems like I’ve known those kids their whole lives now, not just two years…”

* * * * *

Harry stared at the Muggle who was chatting away at the griffin, as if he thought he could talk his way into the animal’s affections. The griffin was still grooming, still preening, hardly even giving the talkative man a glance. Harry, though, he was listening, and he could hardly believe his ears at the story that was so similar and yet different from his own.

All but dumped on a Muggle’s doorstep, check.

Non-magical relative, check.

Non-magical relative with no real prior knowledge of the magical world, check.

His Aunt Petunia might have known more than Parker had, but her stubborn jealousy insured she knew as little about magic as possible. But where his Aunt and Uncle had taken him with much grudging and little love, Parker seemed to have done the exact opposite. Harry could very well believe that the kids hadn’t had a clue about the Muggle world, his best friend Ron hadn’t had a clue, still didn’t if Harry was being honest.

And what a tale…the Calvins’ first interaction with Parker’s team was clearly exaggerated; _surely_ the Muggles hadn’t taken the news about magic that calmly and logically. Harry’s eyes narrowed as he studied Parker, trying to spot whatever trick the Muggle was trying to pull. He _knew_ how Muggles reacted to magic, he’d lived with it for years after all.

Parker moved onto Sam Braddock and the revelations the young Squib-born had brought with him; Harry’s heart broke right along with Parker’s voice at the idea of a _child_ being thrown out simply because he had no magic of his own. He couldn’t fathom it any more than the Muggle could, how could someone _do_ that? To anyone’s child, let alone their own. It was wrong, unjust… _evil_.

The tale of Parker’s team proving themselves was clearly another fabrication; there was _no_ way a group of Muggles had taken down an elite team of Aurors without so much as a lick of magic. To Harry’s surprise, the griffin was beginning to glance up at the Muggle as Parker talked, still outwardly calm and cool.

Parker’s voice broke again as he related the tale of Alanna Calvin’s kidnapping, a tale that made Harry bristle in outrage. At the criminal, yes, but also at Parker for letting it happen. Just more proof that the Muggle didn’t really care for his two magical charges. Alanna must have freed herself from the kidnapper’s clutches.

Harry crossed his arms, wondering how long Silnok was going to let the Muggle stand there and jabber at the griffin. At this rate, they’d be here all day.

* * * * *

Greg decided to count the frequent looks he was getting from the gryphon as a win. His voice was getting a little hoarse; even on the long negotiations he didn’t talk as constantly as he was now. But the SRU Sergeant was determined to wait and talk as long as he needed to. He cleared his throat, moving on in his summary of the two best years of his life. “I guess the next big thing, if you will, was the City Hall Sniper.” He rolled his eyes a little at the memory. “Or rather, Alanna’s stupid, idiotic stunt to protect Sam and Jules.”

The gryphon let out a little hiss of protest at Greg’s description.

“It was stupid,” Greg retorted. “She could have been killed!” He swallowed, wishing for a bit of water. “When Wordy told me what she’d done…that was bad. I was already afraid for Sam and Jules, out in the open with a sniper shooting at them. But with _mia nipote_ out there too…”

A curious cat-like **sqwee?** came from the gryphon as he regarded the man.

Greg stopped, watching the gryphon for several moments. “Curious about them?” he asked.

**Nhaw-uh,** the gryphon replied, ruffling his feathers.

Brown eyes blinked in confusion, meeting piercing blue ones. “Curious about me?” Greg tried again.

**Uru-sqaaa.** Large eagle talons scrapped the ground, sending a bit of dust rising in the air.

Greg shrugged, not sure what the gryphon was trying to communicate, but he changed tactics nonetheless. Well, a little anyway. “Not sure what I’m going to do without them, you know,” he said wistfully. “I mean, we’ll still have magic-side hot calls, but not having them there at the end of a long day…” he trailed off, choking back sorrow. “I’m really gonna miss them,” he admitted, “Even whatever excuses I dream up to see them in England isn’t going to help much.” It really wasn’t; this was like losing his wife and son, only this time, he was completely sober and hadn’t done anything wrong. “They gave me something I thought I’d lost forever,” he found himself telling the gryphon.

And as the gryphon trilled a response, Greg had to force himself to hold perfectly still; the gryphon was standing less than two meters away, those fierce blue eyes studying him. Greg sucked in air and very slowly, very carefully, extended his left hand to the animal. Other than his hand, he was motionless, waiting. The gryphon drew back, those tufted ears perking up. That massive hooked eagle beak lowered, the animal sniffing at Greg’s hand. Then the beak nudged at Greg’s hand, the gryphon giving off a tiny **squrr** as he rubbed his beak against Greg’s hand.

Greg stepped forward, watching for any sign that the gryphon was unhappy, and started to pet the gryphon’s head and scratch behind the animal’s ears. The gryphon **squrr** -ed, hitting Greg’s chest with his head very lightly. Greg, for his part, was content to simply give the animal attention, delaying the next part as long as possible.

“I’ve got to fly on you, you know,” he whispered, keeping his voice as low as he could. “Don’t really want to, but anything for my kids.”

A questioning **squ-ar?** rose from the gryphon and he butted Greg with his head again.

Greg managed a soft chuckle at the clear question. “I, um, I’m afraid of flying,” he admitted, still soft. “And heights.”

Abruptly, the gryphon pulled away, turning and sweeping out one wing, clearly inviting Greg aboard. Behind him, Greg heard Auror Potter’s hiss of disbelief. Greg gulped and, with a mental reminder of who he was doing this for, slid onto the animal’s back. He grabbed hold of the gryphon’s neck as tightly as he dared, burying his face in the feathers and tightening his legs against the gryphon’s sides.

With a loud, triumphant cry, the gryphon threw himself skyward, wings going wide and catching the wind. Against his will, Greg looked. The gryphon flapped hard, gaining altitude as he flew out of the corral, circling higher and higher. Greg’s already tight grip tightened further as his mount wheeled and caught the wind. They left the corral and the clearing behind as the gryphon danced, flying low over the trees, darting this way and that as he played.

With another cry, the animal turned, slow and steady, though his claws briefly scraped the leaves of a particularly tall tree. The wings gave an enormous flap, pushing them upward once more and they flew back toward the clearing, circling wide around the expanse of plain. As soon as they passed the tree line, the gryphon dropped, flying low over the grass, his front claws brushing the ground as he flew back toward the corral.

Behind the gryphon, his tail feathers flared, along with the wings, slowing them as they reached the corral once more. With far more grace than Greg had expected, the griffin landed, the wings practically stalling as the animal twisted his hind legs forward and touched down. Those proud wings stayed spread until Greg had stumbled off, landing on all fours and trying not to throw up. Then they folded and their owner lowered and turned his head to the SRU Sergeant, a concerned **sque-errr?** coming from the animal.

Greg panted hard, grateful beyond words that the flight was _over_ and he was safely back on _terra firma_. An annoyed hiss-growl came from the gryphon and he looked up to see Auror Potter being warned off.

Behind Harry, Silnok looked positively smug, as he looked between Sergeant and gryphon. “Well done, Sergeant Parker,” Silnok called, applauding lazily.

Greg groaned, stumbling back to his feet. Dimly, he wondered if Silnok would mind very much if he passed out now, thank you. He leaned forward, hands on his knees. Then, to the astonishment of Auror Potter and the gryphon, the victorious SRU negotiator threw up.


	7. Heart’s Treasure

Silnok’s gaze was sympathetic as he called for a house-elf to clean up the mess. Once the mess was dealt with, he approached Sergeant and gryphon, unafraid of the gryphon’s soft hiss. Without a word, he offered a flask to the pale, green-tinged man.

“I, uh,” Parker gasped, “Don’t drink.”

“It’s water,” Silnok informed him wryly.

Parker eyed him, then snatched the flask, downing half in three gulps. He sucked in air for a moment, then gulped down the rest of the water. Off to the side, Potter looked both unhappy and apprehensive, clearly understanding that he’d lost the challenge. Just as Silnok had expected, to be perfectly honest. He turned to the house-elf, giving a few quiet orders while Parker collected himself and the young gryphon twittered over the Sergeant. Once the house-elf had departed, taking Parker’s dress robes, Silnok turned back to both humans and the gryphon.

“Young one,” he addressed the gryphon, “Bear with us for a few more minutes, if you would.” The gryphon inclined his head, managing to look both noble and dignified despite the fact that one wing was currently outstretched and discreetly supporting a still gray-faced Parker.

Silnok repressed his smile and presented the rope portkey. Parker sighed with resignation and latched onto the rope, his gryphon companion grabbing hold with a claw right after. Potter snatched up a free end and Silnok uttered the phrase to activate the portkey, sweeping the group back to Gringotts. They landed in Silnok’s office, the gryphon cushioning Parker’s landing. Silnok pulled the rope away and returned it to a bin near his desk. Once done disposing of the portkey, Silnok slipped behind his desk and faced both humans, grateful for the expansion charm that kept his office from being crowded by the gryphon’s presence.

“Lord Potter,” he began, keeping all smugness from his voice, “As Sergeant Parker has succeeded in the challenge of Gringotts, he will retain guardianship of the Heirs Calvin.”

Potter’s eyes narrowed in fury. “That’s it?” he questioned, a touch of desperation in his words, “You’re just going to give them back to this Muggle?”

“What exactly is your problem with me?” Parker demanded, bringing the raging wizard up short.

“I know how Muggles see wizards,” Potter snapped, “If you lot aren’t jealous of magic, you’re ‘trying to stamp that nonsense out.’ ”

There was a long moment as both men faced off, the former indignant, the latter sorrowful. “So who did that to you?” Parker asked quietly. When Potter sputtered in shock, Parker elaborated, “Who was jealous of you, Auror Potter? Who tried to treat your magic as something to be ashamed of, rather than proud of?”

“None of your business,” Potter snarled.

“Seeing as it quite nearly cost me my family, some would say it is,” Parker retorted. Then he deflated. “Tell me one thing, though, Auror Potter. Were you trying to overturn Arthur’s will because you were afraid I’d abuse his kids?”

Silence hung in the air, answer enough for both Silnok and Parker. Silnok cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. “You need not answer, Lord Potter; your silence is answer enough. Does England or the House of Potter have any further business with the House of Calvin?”

In the background, the gryphon trilled softly; Parker cast the animal a curious look. Potter gathered himself, glaring at Silnok. “What happens when he starts resenting them for something he can never have?”

“Resenting them for their magic, Lord Potter?” Silnok echoed, sounding amazed. “You greatly misjudge Sergeant Parker if this is your belief.” The goblin shook his head. “Do you know why Sergeant Parker was so afraid of the challenge Gringotts set forth?”

“Magic, obviously,” Potter hissed, though he looked confused.

“No, not magic,” Silnok disagreed, shaking his head again. “Sergeant Parker is afraid of flying, Lord Potter.”

Potter gaped in shock, looking between an embarrassed Parker and Silnok in disbelief. He sat down hard, looking as if the rug had been pulled out from under him.

Parker took his opening to add, more than a trifle frosty, “If I was into resenting the kids for their talents, it would have been after one of Madame Locksley’s Aurors hit my constable with _Percutio_. And if you _still_ don’t believe me, you can ask her!” Behind Parker, the gryphon **scree** -ed, flapping his wings in annoyance.

“Is there anything further?” Silnok inquired, his eyes harder than obsidian. Potter glared at all of them, then, at last, stomped out and slammed the door behind him. The gryphon squawked in minor alarm, huddling behind his wings at the loud noise. Silnok shook his head in disapproval of Potter’s behavior, making a note to keep an eye on the unhappy Lordling. Once Potter’s footsteps had faded, he turned to Parker, letting a twinkle show in his eyes. “As I said before, Sergeant Parker, well done,” he praised.

“My kids?” Parker pressed, looking towards the door anxiously.

Silnok laughed openly, turning in his seat toward the gryphon. “Illishar,” he beckoned.

Illishar pulled his head from under his wings, twittering a question at the goblin.

Parker looked confused, “His name is Illishar?”

“Yes, indeed,” Silnok replied, “Named, I believe, by his affectionate younger sister.” He smirked as Illishar let out a grumble at that description of his sister. “Now, as to the details, Sergeant Parker. Just as I informed Lord Potter, your Auror badge _does_ indeed grant you sufficient authority within the magical world for Gringotts to fulfill Lord Calvin’s proviso. _However_ , that _alone_ was not my primary reason for interfering.”

“Then what was?” Parker demanded sharply.

Silnok sighed deeply. “The children of a society are that society’s most valuable commodity. Sadly, there are many who forget, or worse, _ignore_ that truth. When it comes to the magical world, Sergeant Parker, blood is oftentimes held far above any _other_ considerations. Thus, Lord Calvin’s choice of a guardian that _none_ could challenge, as the two of you share a blood relation through the _paternal_ line. Unfortunately, without _you_ and your, shall we say, _preeminent_ blood claim, the Heirs Calvin are left vulnerable to the same elements that made them orphans.”

Greg swallowed hard. In a raspy voice, he concluded, “Those elements are related to them?”

“Precisely so. Though Lord Potter’s attempt to gain custody was, on the surface, backed by the British Wizengamot, the likelihood of his _retaining_ custody is, by my reck, almost nonexistent. The Heirs Calvin have, through their paternal grandmother, cousins who are in Azkaban for a number of heinous crimes. Their proxy would be perfectly within his legal rights to demand the guardianship of the Heirs Calvin. The Wizengamot would grant his request almost before he finished making it. I am certain you understand what would likely follow such an event.”

Parker paced a moment, thinking. “So, to protect them, you chose to challenge both of us? Why not just override Lord Potter’s attempt to take guardianship?”

The goblin’s chuckle was harsh and inhuman, but not cruel. “You are correct; Gringotts _could_ have simply overruled the guardianship snatch with a bit of legal wrangling. However, that would not have resolved the issue, as the challenge today did.”

Silnok’s smile grew wide at Parker’s confused expression. “None may challenge you again, Sergeant Parker. After all, today you showed that you have the heart of a Calvin,” the goblin continued, “Thus, the late Lord’s offspring are now considered by the family magic to also be _your_ offspring. The British Wizengamot may make as many proclamations as it wishes; they cannot take the Heirs Calvin from your care, no more than they could have taken them from their late, honored parents.”

“But I don’t have magic,” Parker pointed out. “From those genealogy records, my grandmother was a Calvin, but not even _she_ had magic.”

“You don’t have to have magic to take in two orphans,” Silnok replied firmly. “You don’t have to have magic to consider them your own, you don’t need magic for them to return that regard, and you certainly didn’t need magic today when Illishar made his preference clear.” Raising his voice, Silnok added, “Did he, lad?”

“Um, no?”

Greg whirled around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. A very sheepish Lance was standing right where Illishar had been, flushing bright enough to make the room glow red. Greg snatched his nephew up in a bearhug, almost crushing his nephew’s ribs in the force of his hug. “How?” Greg breathed out. He turned, eyes wide. “The test?”

“Was very real, Sergeant Parker,” Silnok said, voice still firm. “It is an old, old goblin spell, normally used against wizards who attempt to use their animagus forms to steal from our vaults. In this case, it was used with a passphrase. Regardless of the outcome, I would have used the passphrase; young are just as important to goblins as they are to most wizards. For today, it _was_ Illishar whom you dealt with, Illishar who reacted to both yourself and Lord Potter.”

Silnok paused long enough for both to absorb that fact, then continued gently, “Alanna is being brought here now, Sergeant Parker. As we wait for her, I do have something else to speak with you about.”

“And that is?” Parker looked and sounded much better now; Silnok was quite pleased with himself.

Silnok drew several sketches and diagrams from inside his desk and placed a pair of reading glasses on his nose. “As it happens, Sergeant Parker, Gringotts has far more experience with the Muggle world than most any other part of the magical world does. We are, in most countries, forbidden from investing goblin gold in the majority of magical enterprises; thus, we invest in the Muggle world.”

“Tech,” Lance corrected, to the Silnok’s considerable surprise. Silnok peered at the youngling, flummoxed by the correction. “The House of Calvin would prefer to describe the non-magical world as the technological world, Account Manager Silnok,” Lance explained, quiet, polite, and formal.

Silnok grumbled a bit, but was pleased at the lad’s spunk and the title the lad had bestowed on him. “Very well, Heir Calvin, as you say.” Clearing his throat, he returned to his initial point. “As the Tech world has advanced, Gringotts has oft been confronted with the problems of using such technology in the magical world. Of old, the Calvin family achieved a status unknown to many wizards today: Goblin-Friend.” Parker’s eyes went wide as he reached the logical conclusion, but Silnok said it anyway. “As an acknowledged member of the House of Calvin, you do have the authority to request that Gringotts apply our knowledge of magic and technology on your behalf.”

“What technology are we talking about?” Parker asked, cautious to the last.

“Your telephones, of course,” Silnok began, pleased with Parker’s performance throughout the day’s events. “The computer may require some additional adjustments, that particular rune-set is rather delicate. Other, more specialized equipment will take additional research, I fear…”

“Cameras?” Parker questioned hopefully.

Silnok bowed. “Quite so, Sergeant Parker.” He pulled his spectacles off as young Alanna was ushered in. “Is there anything else you would like us to focus on, Sergeant Parker?”

Parker swept Alanna up in a hug, holding tight to both children as he faced Silnok. He considered for some minutes, then nodded to himself. “Babycakes…Constable Scarlatti’s bomb-detection robot,” he decided, “Get Babycakes working on the magic side of things if we have something like a bomb call.”

Silnok leered in appreciation. “It shall be as you say, Sergeant Parker.”

Parker gave Silnok a wide smile of his own. “Thank you, Account Manager Silnok,” he managed, “For everything.”


	8. Epilogue

Harry returned to his hotel room, feeling drained. That Gringotts would, essentially, side with a Muggle was a mystery. While the British Gringotts branch still held a grudge for the break-in he, Ron, and Hermione had committed, the Canadian branch shouldn’t have had any issues with him at all. Numb, the wizard began to pack, using his hands instead of his wand for the first time in years.

“So, where are they?” Hermione asked from the doorway, her arms crossed.

Harry didn’t look at her. “With their Gringotts approved guardian,” he muttered.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione hike a brow in surprise. “Gringotts interfered?” she asked, incredulous.

“Pretty much, yeah. Set a test for both Parker and me to pass.”

Hermione’s other brow shot up, but she simply waited.

“Taming and riding a griffin,” Harry explained. He couldn’t help but sulk as he added, “Griffin nearly took my head off, but it let Parker ride it all around the clearing.”

There was a long silence from Hermione as Harry finished packing. “Will you try again?” she asked at last.

“What else can I do, ‘Mione? I can’t let those kids be abused or abandoned. _Two years._ That’s how long it took for the Wizengamot to _finally_ let me come after them. I can’t give up on them now.”

“Or,” Hermione said, soft and thoughtful, “You could accept that not all Muggles are like the Dursleys.” As Harry turned, shocked at that idea, she added bluntly, “How many Muggles are going to come into the wizarding world and actually try to change it _themselves_ for the better? And, by the way, it _wasn’t_ Parker who told his team about magic, it was the children. Within an hour, Parker’s team had already used their brand-new knowledge to _save_ lives.”

“The wizarding world doesn’t change, not as quickly as Muggles want it to,” Harry argued.

Hermione shrugged, “You never know, Harry, unless you give it a try. The only other thing I’m going to say is that Locksley gave them those Auror badges for a very good reason. Take my advice, brother-in-law mine, and leave those kids with their cousin.” With that, she strolled out of the room, leaving Harry behind to consider what she’d said.

* * * * *

It was a very good thing that Team One hadn’t had any hot calls that day; they were far too busy feeling sorry for themselves and their poor Sergeant. The news that Sergeant Parker’s _nipotes_ were being taken back to England had spread like wildfire, prompting sympathy all across the station.

In the briefing room, Wordy and Ed finalized plans to keep the Sarge from being alone for the next several weeks; the last thing they wanted was for this to ruin Sarge’s decade old, hard-won battle with the bottle. They didn’t plan to give him an option either; they’d just show up at his place and drag him out. Shelley and Sophie were on board, as was Clark; Clark was plotting to put together a poster-board of memories for Sarge to have. The rest of Team One was planning (fantasizing) an assault on merry old Britain to get the kids back, Spike leading the charge.

“Hey Sarge,” Kira said, louder than usual to alert Team One to their Sergeant’s presence. She’d already been roped into several plots, one of which was to act as an early warning system for any unexpected arrivals. To her surprise, the Sarge’s eyes were glinting with pure mischief, not something she expected from a man who’d just lost his kids. Before any Team One members could appear, the mischief disappeared behind Sarge’s negotiator mask, though he did give her a wink.

“Boss?” Spike sounded tentative, surprised, and anxious all at once.

“Hey, Spike, how are you doing?” Sarge asked, giving Spike his negotiator smile.

Spike traded a worried look with Kira. “Shouldn’t I be asking _you_ that, Boss?”

“What are you doing here?” Ed overrode the bomb tech from the door to the briefing room.

Sarge shrugged, leaning back against the counter. “Figured I’d drop by, see how you guys are holding up,” he replied.

“We’re okay,” Wordy offered, “What about you?” The big man’s concern laced every word.

Kira saw the three Team One member tense as Sarge made no reply, instead looking around. “Lou, Sam, and Jules around here?” Sarge inquired, still using his negotiator voice and behavior.

“I’ll get them,” Spike offered, disappearing before anyone could say yea or nay.

The worry and alarm of the remaining Team One constables practically filled the air, but none of them knew what to say. Kira noticed that Sarge was slumping ever so slightly against her desk, making her even more concerned about the man. His brand-new black uniform was dusty and his face looked a little gray. And when Ed and Wordy turned just a bit to talk to each other, Kira saw Sarge rub his hand over his face, yawning a little. He was obviously exhausted, on his feet by willpower alone.

Before Kira could figure out what to say to alert Wordy and Ed to Sarge’s flagging reserves, Spike returned with the rest of Team One in tow. Sam, Jules, and Lou gave their Sergeant careful greetings, wary of bringing up the elephant in the room.

Abruptly, Parker straightened, turning so Kira could see him just as well as his team could, a fierce, triumphant grin spreading across his face. He put two fingers to his lips and blew a sharp whistle, making his team and Kira jump.

“Pizza delivery!” a boyish voice called from the door, bringing all of them around in utter shock.

“And soda for everyone!” the girl next to the boy added, her ringing tones filled with laughter.

“Sarge?” Kira managed; Team One was frozen.

Sergeant Parker’s smile lit the station. “They’re staying, Kira. I got them back.”

Team One whooped in sheer joy, dog-piling their Sergeant and the teens; how the pizza didn’t end up flying all over the walls and the floor was a mystery Kira never bothered to solve as she cheered just as loudly, shrieking with laughter at the scene.

* * * * *

_For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.  
Luke 12:34 NIV_

* * * * *

We are, we are  
Not your ordinary fami-mily  
But we can all agree that  
We are, we are  
Close as close can be

Not too close!!

We ah-ah-ah-ah (We are)  
We ah-ah-ah-ah (We are)  
We ah-ah-ah-ah (We are)  
We are, family

So it don’t matter what it looks like  
We look perfect to me  
We got every kind of love  
I feel so lucky indeed  
They can keep on talking  
It don’t matter to me cause  
We are, we are family (family)  
We are, we are

Ham and cheese!!

No! It's “We are family!”

Nah!

OK, so the links in our chains makes us strange  
But really they make us stronger  
And no one would replace not a thing  
Mother or father (Go Manny)  
'Cause we…

'Cause we come from everywhere  
Searching for ones to care  
Somehow we found it here  
We found us a home

We are, we are  
Not your ordinary fami-mily  
But we can all agree that  
We are, we are  
Close as close can be

Woahhoohhhh!!!!!

We ah-ah-ah-ah (We are)  
We ah-ah-ah-ah (We are)  
We ah-ah-ah-ah (We are)  
We are, we are, (family)  
Family, family

We are, we are

Ham and Cheese!  
_“We Are” ~ Ice Age: Continental Drift_

 

_~ Fin_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! I hope I've made it clear that, just like most _Flashpoint_ stories, the "bad guy" isn't quite so bad after all, for all that Harry acted like a jerk for most of these past two stories. For now, we'll be taking this show on the road with "A Better Plan", coming to a computer/phone/tablet screen near you this Friday, May 19th, 2017.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and I look forward to any comments/reviews/critiques on how this story and/or series is doing so far.


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